Once Upon A Time In New York City
by ceridwen-amyed
Summary: New York City, the modern day. Imagine the son of a notorious gangster and the daughter of a police chief, finding in each other the love they have always craved. A tale as old as time. A precious story retold in the modern day. *UPDATE* Chapter 3!
1. Backstreet Guy

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Disclaimer: Well, this whole thing was inspired by Disney's Aladdin, but I think I've probably taken a few liberties, since the characters are in a modern setting, but every one of them, from Abu to Al and Jas themselves are used with love, care and respect.

New York belongs to itself. Please note: I don't know much about New York – I've never even been there before – so if I get things totally wrong, be gentle with me. After all, this **is** fiction. ;)

One word of warning: I **always** make references to other films/books that I love. Up this chapter is Moulin Rouge. Brownie points to whoever spots it! ;P

~*~

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New York City, the modern day. Imagine the son of a notorious gangster and the daughter of a police chief, finding in each other the love they have always craved. A tale as old as time. A precious story retold in the modern day.

But true love never ran smooth. Aladdin and Jasmine's love must be proven, not in the hot sands of Agrabah, but in the dirty streets of New York. They must face the corruption of a trusted friend, the forging of new allies, the unfolding of secrets… And a certain big blue Genie, who seems to know them very well indeed. 

What follows is a story about a time. A story about a place. A story about the people. But above all things, a story about love. A love that will live forever.

~*~

Once Upon A Time In New York City

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Chapter One: Backstreet Guy

If there was thing that Aladdin hated, it was snow. Especially the snow of New York in the winter. It was too cold, the gutters were slushy with half-melted snow, making riding his motorbike impossible or, worse, if he was walking (as he was now), the cars whipped up mini storms of ice and grit and drenched him. It was just horrid. He'd left work, thinking that he just had enough time to go to the grocery store before it closed, get home, make a nice hot dinner and then watch a movie. Instead, he was trudging what felt like miles across New York, carrying a wet paper bag full to the brim with food and to top it all off, his nose had started running.

__

If only the bike was ready, he thought a little miserably as he walked past a dark looking alley, _I could be riding on that and not-_ He was pulled from his thoughts, quite literally, into the alley he'd just passed.

"Hey-!" he began, then crying out in dismay as the grocery bag fell to the ground, its contents spilling all over the damp ground. 

"Ooh, cranberry sauce!" squealed a happy voice.

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Oh no, thought Aladdin. _Not these two…_

"Why Abis, Haroud," he started brightly. "Don't you think it's a little rude to make a guy drop his things?"

"Not when the 'guy' in question has been avoiding us for weeks…" replied Haroud, folding his long thin arms. He paused and looked down at the short, round little man who was happily picking through Aladdin's groceries. Aladdin still had trouble comprehending that Abis was the leader here. Abis didn't walk or swagger as most men in his position did: he rolled, skipped, scrambled. He wore big hats with wide brims that made him look ridiculous. Haroud, on the other hand, strode purposefully and wore a dark green beanie that made him look a little like Samuel L. Jackson. Aladdin had never worked out how it was that _Abis_ had managed to become such a big time crook, and Haroud his lackey.

Haroud coughed. "Ah sir? There will be time for… dinner later."

"What? Oh, all right. Listen here," he said, waving a cucumber in Aladdin's direction menacingly. "You tell your father that-"

"I don't know where he is," cut in Aladdin, scowling.

"You tell your father," continued Abis ignoring him, "that unless he makes the payment to us by the end of the week, we'll… we'll… Uh…"

Haroud let out a long-suffering sigh. "Crush his bones, sir?"

"Yes! Crush his bones! I like that one Haroud – write it down."

Haroud rolled his eyes.

"Look, I haven't seen him in months," said Aladdin. "And I'm unlikely to see him any time soon-"

"Ha! Of course you will! You're his son!"

Aladdin swallowed. "I don't feel like it," he muttered under his breath. Haroud leaned in close, and Aladdin backed off, feeling the cold metal of a dumpster against his back. Abis was more stupid then he was dangerous, but Haroud… Haroud was like a sleeping snake: you never knew when you might push him a little too far.

"You tell your father," he said in a low voice, "that he had better give us the money he owes us, and stop playing these silly little games… Or else he'll be attending another funeral in the family caused by an… accident." Aladdin flinched almost imperceptibly at those words and looked away. Haroud seemed to take this as some sort of sign of assent because he smirked and turned away. 

"You tell your dad!" piped up Abis as he and Haroud left the alley. They disappeared into the crowd and Aladdin let out a sigh of relief. A moment later, Abis came scurrying back. He picked up the jar of cranberry sauce and laughed, waving it triumphantly at Aladdin's bemused face. He ran off again after Haroud, clutching the jar tightly to his chest. Aladdin shook his head and began picking up the spilt groceries, absently hoping that the bag would not split.

Abis and Haroud obviously knew something he didn't… They never usually bothered him that much, and he _hadn't_ been avoiding them for weeks: he had no particular quarrel with them. Well… nothing recently, anyhow. No, when they said, "you've been avoiding us", they meant that Aladdin's father had. It was just easier to refer to father and son as the same person. After all, they both looked alike, had the same thick black hair, the same mischievous twinkle in brown eyes… And, of course, the same knack of getting into trouble, generally with the type of people who wouldn't think twice about…. Well, to put it in Haroud's words, crushing bones if things didn't go their way.

__

But I'm completely different to my father, thought Aladdin a little bitterly as he resumed his trudge back home, along with all the other sidewalk pedestrians. _I make an honest dollar. I don't make promises I don't intend to keep. I don't…_

"I'm just _not_ him!" he said aloud, causing several people to look at him oddly and cross over to the other side of the street. But Aladdin barely noticed. He absolutely hated it when people lumped him and his father together. _Like father like son_, they always sneered. _His father's in a gang – the leader of one in fact. The King of Thieves. So Aladdin must be the Prince of Thieves._ It was infuriating. Aladdin had absolutely nothing to do with his father's life… Alright, maybe he had at one time gone with the Thieves, but that had been a long time ago. Before…

Aladdin jumped as something rubbed up against his leg. He glanced down in surprise, and saw a wiry looking brown cat looking back at him with huge dark eyes. It meowed, looking incredibly pathetic in the snow.

"Aw, Abu," said Aladdin fondly, realising that he must have stomped his way back to his apartment block in record time. "Did Mr. Kleiss lock you out again?" The cat meowed again and then scrambled up Aladdin's leg and torso with astonishing agility to his shoulder. "Ow!" cried Aladdin, laughing despite himself, shifting the grocery bag into his left arm so he could stroke the purring mass of fur on his shoulder. "What do you think you are, a monkey?" Abu nuzzled the side of his head.

Aladdin shook his head and pulled his key out of his pocket. No sooner had he turned the lock and entered the building, an unholy screech assaulted his ears.

"Wipe your feet!!"

Aladdin rolled his eyes, but obliged as his landlord, a skinny little Greek with extremely shiny black hair glared at him, pulling a mop from behind him as he scurried towards the door.

"Ungrateful little ingrate!!" he shrieked. Mr Kliess always spoke like this: there was a permanent squeak attached to his voice. Aladdin sometimes worried that Kliess would drown in his own punctuation. "No consideration, none at all!!" 

"Sorry, Mr Kleiss," he began, edging past the fuming little man. Aladdin had long ago learnt that the best way to get along (or at least, ignore) Mr. Kleiss was to say sorry and then get away as quickly as possible. "Won't happen again-"

"And that cat!! It has to go, do you understand me?! Tracking dirt in here, morning and night-"

"I can't get rid of Abu," protested Aladdin, climbing up the first few steps. "He's been in my family as long as I have!" Abu hissed at the Greek, who glared back at him through thick glasses.

"Well, put a leash on it!!"

"I can't put a leash on him!" cried Aladdin, horrified at the very thought of such a thing. He climbed up another stair. "He's not just a.. a _pet_!"

"Well, do something!! What's this?!" Kleiss bent over and peered closely at the polished floor. "Scuff marks?!"

Aladdin bolted, desperately juggling the paper bag and his cat, who clawed his shoulder in a desperate attempt to hang on. Mr Kleiss' screeches followed him. There was something very odd about that man… It was one thing to want to be clean and tidy but quite another to always carry a portable iron around with you. An obsession like that just couldn't be healthy. 

Aladdin didn't really know why he stayed in this place… His own apartment had three rooms: a bedroom, a bathroom and a kitchen/ living room. He could probably afford a much nicer place, one without a cranky landlord but he couldn't bring himself to leave. His mother had been born in this apartment block, and it was where Aladdin had spent the first few years of his life. He could still dimly remember sitting on the cheap, broken sofa, watching his mother cook in the kitchen, inhaling the thick aromas of the spices she used, hoping that she'd allow him to try a small bite of the sweet pastries she made before they went in the oven… No. He couldn't leave this place. Not just yet anyhow…

Abu hopped down gracefully to the floor and ran on ahead, oblivious to his owner's pensive thoughts. He waited patiently outside Aladdin's door.

"Hungry, right?" grinned Aladdin. "Hang on, buddy… I've gotta find the key…" Abu meowed and stood up on his hind legs to paw at the door. Aladdin laughed, and was about to put the key in the lock when he heard a noise coming from inside. A cough. Aladdin leaned closer to the door, listening so carefully that he could hear the rush of blood in his ears. He could just make out the sounds of the TV: it sounded like it might be an old Western, judging from the gunshots. There was another distinct cough. Aladdin grimaced. There was no mistaking _that_ particular cough. No wonder Abis and Haroud had cornered him: they must have had inside information. 

With a sigh, Aladdin opened the door, allowing Abu to rush in before him. "Y'know," he began sourly, shutting the door again and putting the shopping on the tiny kitchen table, "it would be nice if you called to let me know you were staying before you actually arrived."

The man lying on the sofa grinned and blew out a lazy smoke ring from his cigar. "What? Can't a man just pop by to see his son?"

"_You_ can't," said Aladdin. "I haven't seen you for _months_, and you think you can just waltz in here and-"

"I'm sorry Aladdin," interrupted Cassim, leaning over and turning the volume down on the TV remote. "But I need a place to stay for a few weeks."

"I know," said Aladdin, digging out a can of cat food from the bag. "I bumped into Abis and Haroud on the way here…" Abu jumped up on the kitchen worktop and stared intently at the can.

Cassim snorted. "I've much bigger fish to worry about than those two clowns."

"They're after the cash you owe them," continued Aladdin, a trifle absently as he started searching for the can opener. "Ah-ha!" he murmured triumphantly, after finding it under a damp washcloth.

Cassim took another long drag on his cigar. "I know. I can pay them back after this little mess blows over…"

"What's happened now?"

Cassim shrugged. "Oh, it's nothing for you to worry about. Seriously kid," he added, seeing the look on Aladdin's face, "it's fine. I just need to keep a low profile for the next week or so… Business is bad."

Aladdin didn't know whether to feel exasperated or touched by the way his father tried to keep his son from his "business": he knew how much Aladdin hated it. There had been a time when Aladdin had tried to pull Cassim away from that lifestyle: he even got him a pretty decent job, repairing motorcycles (the one thing that father and son had in common: a love of bikes). But after a week or so, Cassim had gone back to "business", and Aladdin had resigned himself to the fact that no matter how much his father loved him (and sometimes Aladdin wondered about that), he would never be anything more then a gangster. Aladdin could still clearly recall how angry he'd been with his father… How he couldn't believe, after everything that had happened, the "accident", the bloody reprisals, everything – Cassim had still gone back to that lifestyle. _You can't teach an old dog new tricks_, he thought bitterly.

"Aladdin? Are you alright?"

Aladdin blinked and realised that he was gripping hold of the can opener extremely tightly. Abu meowed again petulantly. Aladdin shook himself, and quickly opened the can, the cat not even bothering to wait for it to be put onto a plate. Aladdin left him to sticking his paw in the can and fishing out the meat. 

"I'm fine," said Aladdin pulling off his gloves and coat. "I just…" He sighed, not knowing how to put his feelings into words. _I hate the life you're living_ didn't seem strong enough somehow. There was an awkward pause.

"Look," began Cassim, dropping his cigar in the bin, "I know that it's not really on just to barge in on you like this… What's say I cook dinner, hmm?" He went over to the kitchen and grinned at Aladdin. "How about sambusaks, the way your mom used to make 'em?"

"Uh, sorry dad, I can't," said Aladdin quickly. He regretted saying it almost instantly: Cassim looked so disappointed that Aladdin could have kicked himself. "I've uh-I've made arrangements to go see... Sadie!"

Cassim brightened. "Sadie, huh? She was a nice girl… So, you guys are still friends?"

"Yep," said Aladdin, edging for the door and grabbing his coat. "Great friends. Bosum buddies…"

"Well, you don't want to keep her waiting, do you?" Cassim said this so jovially that Aladdin stopped shuffling backwards, and gave his father a suspicious look.

"We're not _that_ close."

"I never said you were."

"Hmm," said Aladdin, eyeing him closely. "Well, I'll see you later then." Aladdin didn't wait for a reply, and practically ran out the room. He closed the door and leant against it, letting out a sigh. Well. There really was only place he could go now…

*

Aladdin didn't have many pictures of himself when he was boy, but in the ten or so he did have he was never alone: he was with his mother, his father, Abu. And Sadie. For as long as he could remember, Sadie had always been right there beside him. They'd grown up in the same building and spent their childhood running around like wild things, dodging Kleiss and using the building's fire escape as a way to get in and out of each other's apartments. At least, they had done until Sadie's mother had changed the locks on their windows. Sadie's folks had long since moved to a quiet suburb, but Sadie had stayed in New York: her building was just across the street, something Aladdin was profoundly grateful for. His memories of his childhood with her were important to him: they reminded him of a simpler time. A time when they'd both been free to do what they wanted and not being afraid to get in trouble. And even when he had gotten into trouble, she'd get him out of it (after all, what grown up could resist a little girl with hair in pigtails and bright blue eyes?), and then, when they got home, to call him a doofus for getting them into trouble in the first place. Aladdin couldn't even remember how they'd first met: it felt like he'd known her since the day of his birth, but he knew that was impossible. Cassim didn't remember, claiming that they'd just taken up with each other one day for no apparent reason. The only person who might have known was Aladdin's mother, and it was too late to ask her anything…

He supposed that it probably didn't matter how they'd meet: it only mattered that they were still friends, and that he could count on her. And that it only took him about two minutes to get to her place from his, if he ran. 

Aladdin knocked sharply on her door. There were a few muffled noises and a "just a minute!" which meant that she was looking through her peephole at him. He stuck his tongue out at it automatically, a childish habit he'd always kept with her. There was a click and the slide from the bolt.

"Lemme me guess," Sadie said as she opened the door and rested her hip against the doorframe. She tapped her chin in mock thought. "Your old man's dropped by for a visit?"

"Bingo," said Aladdin. "Except it's more of a stay then a visit. Can I come in?"

"Sure," she said, stepping away from the door. "I can't have you freezing to death, can I? I mean," she continued as Aladdin flopped down on her couch, "who would I get to stick his tongue out me when I answer the door?"

Aladdin laughed shortly. "What's all this?" he asked, gesturing to the coffee table, which was strewn with bits of paper.

"Oh," she said, sitting next to him and grimacing at the paperwork. "It's stuff the museum gave me to look over…"

"How's that going, anyhow?" Sadie worked at the Asia Society's museum on **44th Street** researching old artefacts: more precisely, artefacts that had some magical or religious significance. Aladdin hadn't been surprised when she'd accepted the job. He knew Sadie well enough to know that she was a hard worker, especially when it came to the things that she loved, and she'd always loved archaeology. Aladdin could remember when they'd watched 'Indiana Jones' for the first time and the very next day, Sadie had gone out and bought a hat and whip just like Harrison Ford's. She still sometimes wore the hat while at work, and the whip was currently underneath the window ledge.

"It's all going well," said Sadie, curling her feet up underneath her. "The thing I'm doing now," she nodded at the paper, "is to do with these objects they found in the Arabian Desert."

"What'd they find?"

"Oh, an hourglass, a staff… some old books, but we can't read them yet. They look really great: like something a witch would use." She grinned at Aladdin. "You ought to drop by sometime and take a look."

"I will."

"Wanna coffee?"

"Please."

As Sadie scrambled over the back of the sofa to get the coffee, Aladdin glanced around her apartment. He'd always liked it: it was about the same size and design as his own apartment and simply decorated. Dark wooden floors, that looked as though she'd just mopped them: he could just smell the fresh scent of the floor cleaner she used. The walls were a light cream colour and covered in posters: some were just interesting artefacts from the museum shop, others were from films she liked. He knew that in the kitchen was a little cluster of photos, from trips she'd taken with the museum, photos of her parents on their wedding day, of herself and various friends… But mostly her and Aladdin. His own photo collection was similar: they'd once bought two disposable cameras and spent a day taking photos of each other in Central Park, by the Statue of Liberty, on top of the Empire State Building… Aladdin smiled at the memory. It had been a good day. They should do it again some time…

"Hey, can you switch on the CD player? Track 2…" Sadie's voice drifted through from the kitchen.

"Okay," he called back, and switched on her stereo. He grinned as a familiar song filled the room. "Do you ever take this song off?"

"Nope," she said, coming back into the room and handing him a mug. She smiled. "It's my theme song." Aladdin laughed as she danced across the room to turn up the volume. "One minute I'm in Central Park," she sang along with Billy Joel. "Then I'm down on DeLacey Street. From the Bowery to St Marks. There's a syncopated beat…"

Aladdin laughed again, and she trailed off, looking at him thoughtfully.

"Come on then," she sighed, plonking herself back next to him. "Tell me what's wrong."

"Who said anything about anything being wrong?" asked Aladdin, feigning innocence, to which Sadie just rolled her eyes.

"Come on, Al. You only ever laugh like that when something's wrong-"

"I do?" said Aladdin in surprise.

"Yeah, it's all hollow and weird… And don't change the subject," she pointed a finger at him, like a scolding parent. "What's wrong? Is it your dad?"

Aladdin sighed. He never could hide anything from Sadie: not that he really wanted to. After all, didn't you tell your best friend everything? "It's just that… I don't know. I hate the way he just barges in and out of my life like a… like a train. There's never any warning, he just arrives and then leaves again… I mean, how can I have a decent relationship with him if I never know if he's coming or going… I thought that it would change after mom died…" He trailed off miserably, and Sadie's mouth twisted into a grimace of sympathy. Her parents were still alive and kicking, out in their little suburban paradise, but Sadie had never been on the best of terms with them. Her skin was a darker shade then theirs: her first year or so of life had been comprised of paternity tests and arguments. Even now, when everything was supposedly settled, her father had little to do with her and her mother… Well, Sadie had always insisted that given the choice between her husband and daughter, Mitra Lotus would always choose her husband.

For a moment, Aladdin and Sadie just smiled sadly at each other, sharing the type of understanding that only comes about when you have known someone for a very long time. Sadie shook her head.

"Well, I guess there's only one thing to do."

"What?" asked Aladdin a little suspiciously.

"Go out, of course! Oh, come on," she said as Aladdin groaned. "I'm not saying have a wild night out on the town. Let's just go have dinner. My shout."

"Yeah?" said Aladdin raising his eyebrows. 

"What, you think I have no money? Come on; nowhere fancy. The Marketplace. We could get some coffee and baklava…" Her voice trailed off teasingly: she knew perfectly well that Aladdin never said no to baklava.

"Oh, all right then," said Aladdin, weakening at the thought of those delicious little snacks. He laughed as Sadie clapped her hands (Sadie hated cooking with a passion) and grabbed her coat and some old beaten up looking trainers. "Do you have enough money?" he asked.

Sadie shrugged, lacing up her shoes quickly. "If not, we can put it on my tab." She grabbed her keys and shoulder bag from underneath the sofa and snapped off the stereo.

"_Do_ you have a tab there?" asked Aladdin in surprise. He opened the door.

"Nope," replied Sadie briskly, shooing him out the door. "But I'm sure we can start one up." She shut the door, Aladdin's laugh still echoing across her walls.


	2. Uptown Girl

**A/N:** Sorry for the major lack of updates… Life and writer's block, is not a good combination. :P

This chapter contains references to _Tales from Agrabah_ by Katherine Applegate – spot them, and get a cookie! ;) 

**Dedicated:** To Caroline, because she's great, and to Ducky, my CBS. :)

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~ * ~

_Chapter Two: Uptown Girl_

It began to snow as Jasmine walked home from her lectures. She wouldn't have minded so much, but she'd had her hair cut two weeks ago, and without the thick sheet of hair, her neck felt oddly vulnerable, not to mention cold. Still, with a light dusting of snow, New York and her little neighbourhood looked almost charming, the white powder covering up all the cracks in the tarmac and the horrible chain link fences that separated the houses. However, as much she liked the snow, Jasmine considered that the best thing about snowy days was going back inside, back into the warmth of her little home... Thinking about the warm electric fire they had in their living room she started to hurry.

"Oh no… Jasmine, wait!"

Jasmine turned around and saw her friend Lisa struggling with her bag.

"The zip split," said Lisa, desperately juggling all her books to keep them from falling in the snow. Jasmine jogged back to where Lisa stood and helped her put the books back in the bag. "Why are law books so heavy?" grumbled Lisa, pulling on the zip irritably.

"Because the law is a complicated subject and needs a lot of pages to describe it," replied Jasmine, taking the bag from Lisa and tugging it shut. "You need to get a new bag."

"I need to get some thinner books," said Lisa, grinning a little at Jasmine. "And it was a rhetorical question." 

They carried on walking, Jasmine swinging her perfectly zipped-up bag just over the snow on the pavement. Suddenly, Lisa stopped. Glancing up, Jasmine saw a young man strolling towards them, wrapped up tightly in a long coat, a grey scarf covering his mouth.

Jasmine smiled knowingly as Lisa ducked her head a little and bit her lower lip slightly. As the young man approached, he pulled his scarf away from his face with his index finger, and Lisa looked up again, smiling hopefully.

"Hi," he said softly.

"Hi," said Lisa, her voice a little higher than usual. 

He nodded at Jasmine and then continued past them. Lisa turned right around to watch him, blushing hotly when he glanced over his shoulder and gave them a little wave.

"You are hopeless!" laughed Jasmine, as Lisa grinned and linked arms with her.

"He's such a sweetheart," she giggled. "Did I tell you that I saw him in the park yesterday?" 

"No - what, are you stalking him?"

"He was sitting on a bench," continued Lisa in a dignified voice, ignoring her friend's laughter. "With a pen and notepad in his hands. He's a _poet_, isn't that just wonderful? Didn't I say that he was the poetic type?"

Jasmine smiled and nodded. "What did you say his name was again?"

"_Christian," breathed Lisa, looking up at the sky. "Isn't that _perfect_?"_

Jasmine couldn't quite work out what was so perfect about the name Christian, but she didn't bother to ask. Lisa continued, her boots scuffing the slush on the sidewalk.

"He's going to The Marketplace tonight – you know, that café on 42nd Street?" Jasmine nodded. "He's going to hold a little poetry reading there – I overheard him talking to his friend-"

"You _are stalking him!"_

"Oh, shut up," said Lisa, giving Jasmine a playful push.

They were approaching Jasmine's house now: she could make out the cherry tree that had been growing in her garden since they'd moved there. In spring, ripe red cherries fell from the branches, littering the small lawn with little bittersweet fruits. Now, without its leaves or fruit, it looked depressingly bare. Their footsteps slowed as Jasmine approached the gate, Lisa falling a little behind.

"I was thinking," continued Lisa, wringing her gloved hands a little nervously, "that maybe we could… I mean, I could…"  

Jasmine paused, her hand on the gate's latch. "What?"

"I thought maybe we could go down there and… cheer him on."

"Oh, Lis," cried Jasmine, "I don't think I can – I've got so much work to do…"

"Forget work!" said Lisa, waving her arms about. "Take the night off! This'll be so much more fun!" 

"It's due in tomorrow," said Jasmine, pulling a little face. "Besides… my dad said something about us having people over for dinner."

"Oh," said Lisa, her shoulders slumping a little. "Well, if you can't go, you can't go…"

Jasmine regarded her friend for a moment. How long had they known each other now? Three, four years? It felt longer. It felt like there had hardly been a time when she hadn't been able to call up Lisa and they'd talk for hours about everything and nothing… She was the only true friend Jasmine had ever had.

"Look," she said finally, "dinner won't go on for _that_ long… I can meet you there a little later – give you a chance to talk to Christian!"

"You will?" said Lisa, grinning brightly. "Oh, you're the best!" She hugged Jasmine impulsively.

"Wow," laughed Jasmine, "you must really like this guy, huh?" 

Lisa giggled. "What time are you going to get there?"

"Oh, probably about nine-ish… And don't you arrive at that time – you need to talk to him!"

Lisa giggled again and squeezed Jasmine's hands. "Thank you, Jas! I'll talk to you later, okay? I need to go…" She trailed off, grinning and biting her lip again.

"Go!" laughed Jasmine, pushing Lisa a little. "Get ready!"

Lisa nodded and danced off down the street, singing "Get Happy" to the heavy clouds. Jasmine smiled, shook her head and opened the gate.

"Hello, dad!" she called cheerily as she entered the house, stamping her feet to get rid of the snow.

"Hello, dear!" called a voice from the kitchen, and Hamid poked his head around the door. "How was your day?" he smiled at her. "Helene's here."

"Hello, Jasmine!" boomed another voice from the kitchen. Jasmine grinned to herself: her father and Helene made an odd couple; Hamid looking like an Arabian version of Santa Claus, and Helene, tall and strong, like an Amazonian, but somehow, they were just perfect for each other. It was a pity they didn't realise it yet.

Jasmine dumped her bag in the hallway and then went into the kitchen, sniffing the spicy air hopefully. "Whatever you two are doing in here, it smells wonderful!" she smiled at them both.

"It's Helene's recipe," explained Hamid, wiping his hands on a tea towel. "Grilled chicken with roasted bananas."

"Sounds… interesting," said Jasmine.

"It's an old family recipe," said Helene, "and your father's made some poppy seed cakes and fig pie for desert." Hamid smiled and nodded proudly.

"So you finally got that recipe from Safiya, huh?" laughed Jasmine. "Well, I guess that means you can stop spending a fortune at the bakery…"

"I'm afraid my version shall never match Safiya's," replied Hamid, a little sadly. "She wouldn't tell me the name of the secret spice she uses." He sighed, surveyed the cluttered kitchen top, lightly dusted by flour, and then smiled brightly. "Still, it's a nice smell, isn't it?"

Jasmine nodded. "So, who's coming tonight? Friends from the station?" she asked, hopping up onto a stool by the breakfast bar and nibbling on a sunflower seed from the dish they always kept there (a vain attempt on Jasmine's part to get her father to stop snacking on Safiya's poppy seed cakes). "Are you staying for dinner, Helene?" asked Jasmine hopefully, since dinner with Helene was always interesting. Helene always seemed to have just come from some amazing accident or adventure and was very good at re-enacting them using food and cutlery. She was by far the strongest woman Jasmine knew, body and mind.

"Sadly, no," said Helene, briskly brushing down her clothes. "I've got another training session with Scara. I just came round to help Hamid with dinner."

 "Jafar and Iago are coming at about 8-ish," said Hamid, looking just a little guilty as he spoke.

"Jafar and Iago?" repeated Jasmine, in dismay. "But you said you wouldn't let Iago set foot in this house after what he did!"

Hamid nodded, looking very uncomfortable. Jasmine knew that it was a sore point for him, that his daughter didn't like his closest friends, but Jasmine didn't think there was much she could do about it: Jafar especially was a _dreadful man.  _

"I know," sighed Hamid. "But I felt it was about time that we settled things… After all, the best of us make mistakes, and besides, it was getting awfully awkward around the station… He's a good officer, Jasmine," he added, looking at Jasmine sternly under his bushy eyebrows.

"Only because he's friends with all the prisoners," muttered Jasmine, but Hamid didn't hear her; he was too busy saying goodbye to Helene.

"Goodbye. Jasmine," said Helene as she put her coat on. She leant closer and muttered underneath her breath, "If either of those _men_ tries anything funny tonight, just remember that move I taught you." Jasmine smiled weakly and nodded. Helene patted her shoulder not too gently, and then sailed out the door, Hamid trotting after her.

Jasmine shouldered her bag and trudged up the stairs, her good mood completely gone. She flung herself on her bed dramatically. "Oh, Rajah," she sighed, looking and the striped fur-ball currently lying on her window seat. "Why did it have to be _them_?"

In Jasmine's opinion, Iago and Jafar were two of the most insufferable people on the planet, though Jafar was far worse. At least Iago made enough noise to allow one a moment or so to prepare. Jafar was much sneakier.

Sighing, Jasmine decided she would have to make the best of it. Besides, she could always skip dessert (even if it was poppy seed cake and fig pie) and meet Lisa a little earlier… Much cheered by that thought, Jasmine pulled out her books and started on her work.

To Jasmine, law was fascinating. Perhaps it was the fact that her father was a police chief that had first inspired her: some of her earliest memories were playing "Cops and Robbers" with her father. There was so much injustice in the world, something Jasmine felt she'd been aware of since she'd been very young. She'd been a passionate child, caught up in her own day-dreams, and yet almost morbidly fascinated by the news, listening intently as Hamid told her mother about his day and the cases he'd been working on. It had seemed a logical step to go to law school after high school, and even more logical to stay in the city, near her father…

All of Jasmine's life, she had dreamt of travelling the world, seeing new places, meeting new people. But when the time had come to leave, she couldn't. The week before she was supposed to leave for a college halfway across the country, Jasmine had taken her mother to the doctor's; she'd been feeling rundown for a while, and the dark circles under her eyes worried Jasmine. They'd both thought that it was just a cold, or even just stress making her ill… It had been much worse.

Jasmine swallowed back her tears as she remembered her mother's last few months. Her mother's thick black hair had thinned, clinging to the hairbrush as Jasmine brushed it delicately; the tanned skin fading to a sickly yellow, and the bright eyes that became dimmer and dimmer until, finally, they closed forever. Hamid had been in no state to take care of himself, so Jasmine had stayed. She didn't resent it – she loved her father very much – but sometimes…

Sometimes she wondered what it would have been like if nothing had changed… if her mother had lived. She saw herself, going to that college so far away, laughing and joking with new friends, having new experiences… And then flying home for holidays, back to her mother and father's welcoming embraces and telling them all about her new life, and that no matter what happened, she still loved them and would always love them. And they would have told her that they loved her, too, and that his little house would always be her home. Jasmine sighed, and then opened up her law books; it was no good to reflect on what might have been. She had to make the most of her life _now _and forget about past dreams. They were finished for now. 

It was a little after seven when Jasmine heard the cacophony of noise outside; raised voices and a motor thrumming. She sighed, and closed her books. Iago had arrived.

"Whaddya mean, $20? You think I'm made of money?" Pause. "But it cost $17 last time! I tell you, you drivers have got it made!  $20 for ten minutes of work? Geez-louise!" Another, longer pause. Jasmine peered out her window and saw two figures, one as short as her father, and the other twice the height of both of them. The driver of the cab was hanging out the window, but Jasmine couldn't work out what he was saying from this distance.

"Dangerous?!" shrieked the short figure. "Listen, bub, you want dangerous, try tracking down a Brazilian nutcase for six months, huh?"

The tall figure, who had been standing regally apart from his companion, glanced up suddenly and spotted Jasmine. He stared at her for a moment and then smiled slowly. He turned away and touched the other man's arm, murmuring something that made Iago stop mid rant. Both turned up to the window. Jafar smiled, his teeth like a sharp piece of ice; Iago gave a brief wave and then paid the driver reluctantly. Jasmine moved away from the window and made a face at Rajah.

"Well… they're here." Rajah meowed and stuck out his tongue. "You said it," said Jasmine darkly.

She loitered in her room for as long as possible, unwilling to go downstairs as her father invited his colleagues into the house. She frowned as Jafar's low baritone penetrated up through the floorboards. There was something about that voice that made Jasmine's skin crawl… Anything that could be so low and yet pierce through floorboards was just… creepy.

Jasmine knew that Hamid's welcome to Jafar would be much happier than his welcome to Iago. Jafar had been friends with her father for many years; he was the closet thing Jasmine had to a godfather, but strangely, neither he nor Hamid had ever brought up the subject on making it an official role (to which Jasmine was immensely grateful). There was something about Jafar that made Jasmine's skin crawl. He was too calm, too… too collected. She had never seen him look ruffled, even when he had been working on the same cases as Hamid. Frustrating days that left Hamid weary and angry barely seemed to ripple in Jafar's cool exterior. When he smiled, it was as if his face had cracked in half: his jaw and lips twisted into an oily expression but his eyes retained their calculated look.

Iago on the other hand… well, you couldn't get a more different person. Iago was short and had fiery red hair, with a temper to match. He also had a gambling problem and a strange obsession with the "get-rich-quick" scams that TV companies played late at night. He'd been disgraced about a year ago, when he'd run up a huge debt and, to hide from the debt collectors, had camped out in the police station for three days. Eventually they dragged him out and repossessed his furniture anyway, but the press somehow got wind of the story. Hamid had been furious; the angriest Jasmine had ever seen him. The media coverage had definitely caused some bad publicity, and Hamid was all set to fire him when Jafar stepped in. Why he did so, or how he managed to persuade her father to keep Iago on, was still a huge mystery to Jasmine. In truth, she suspected that it was a bit of a mystery to her absent-minded father; whenever she brought up Iago's return to the police department, he coughed and changed the subject. 

"Dearest! Won't you come down?" 

Jasmine jumped a little as Hamid's voice broke her out of her thoughts. Sighing, she patted Rajah on the head. The cat gave her a solemn look, licked her hand and, his tail held jauntily high as he leaped off the bed, followed her downstairs.

"There you are, Jasmine!" said Hamid cheerfully. "Jafar was beginning to think you didn't want to come downstairs!" He laughed as Jafar smirked and nodded his head at Jasmine again. She gave him a tight smile as Rajah wandered through the crowded hallway, sniffing feet on his way to the kitchen.

"Good evening, Jafar… Iago," Jasmine said, noting with some degree of worry that Iago was scrutinising the ornaments in the hallway with a shrewd and careful eye. "I'm very happy to see you both again," she added hastily, as her father beamed and bounced on his toes. He did so much for her… the least she could do was to be polite to his friends. Even if those friends were a compulsive gambler (supposedly reformed) and a snake. She ran her hand self-consciously through her hair.

"Aah…" said Jafar. "You look so much older, Jasmine, without all that hair."

"I know," said Hamid, with a sigh. "It's amazing how quickly they grow."

"Indeed," said Jafar, looking at Jasmine from under heavily lidded eyes. Jasmine felt herself flush and curled her hands into fists

"Hey, Jas," said Iago suddenly, turning to look her in the eye. "Jafar was just tellin' me all about how you put a salamander in his hat – that true?"

"I was only nine," said Jasmine, fighting back a smile of her own as Iago screeched with laughter. Her fingers relaxed themselves again.

"Ahh, I would have loved to have seen the look on your face!" he shrieked, smacking a hand down on Jafar's shoulder. "Think you can do it again tonight, huh, Jas?" This time Jasmine did giggle and decided that Iago really wasn't all that bad. 

"It was just a childish prank," said Jafar smoothly, delicately removing Iago's hand with the very tips of his fingers, "pulled by a child. I'm sure Jasmine is far too old for such things." 

Jasmine stopped laughing immediately, smoothing her hair again. Jafar's dark brown eyes suddenly seemed to be glittering pieces of onyx, dancing with fire. Iago was still chuckling, apparently unaware of the sudden tension that filled the hallway. Hamid coughed and then motioned towards the dining room.

"Shall we eat?" he said, looking nervously from his daughter to his second-in-command. "Helene helped me make it: grilled chicken with roasted bananas."

"Hey, if it's food, I'll eat it," said Iago, patting his stomach. "I could eat _anything right now!"_

"Shall we, Jasmine?" asked Jafar, taking hold of her arm. Darkness abruptly clouded her vision. A wave of dizziness overcame her; a sense of a terrible dark power coiled around the tall man. A bitty, grainy something filled her mouth, and she thought that she would choke, as heavy weights chained her wrists, and she had to free herself, she had to stop him from hurting her father, from hurting the boy-

"Jasmine?"

Jasmine wrenched her arm from Jafar's and backed away, clutching the stair banisters, breathing hard. What had _that been? She stared up at Jafar, his expression oddly closed and piercing._

_He knows_, she thought. _What I saw, he knows… What he knew, she wasn't sure, or even if it mattered that he knew what she'd just experienced, but she was sure of one thing. She had to get out._

"Dearest?" Hamid touched her arm gently, concern written all over his soft face. Iago watched them all carefully, his mouth pinched, as if he was working something out.

"I-I'm sorry, father," said Jasmine in a quiet voice. She could feel herself shaking, but she didn't know why. She didn't understand any of this, why a man whom she'd known nearly her entire life suddenly had such a powerful and frightening effect on her. "I just remembered," she continued, more confidentially (for it is easier to pretend to be confident when you have a game plan), "I promised a friend I'd help her out with some work… There was a case she wasn't sure about, and-"

"And you gotta go help her out," said Iago unexpectedly. "Well, I guess them's the breaks nowadays - gotta study hard to get anywhere, right, Jas?"

"Yes," said Jasmine, blinking at this unexpected ally. "I'm so sorry…"

"Well, I suppose nothing can be done about it, if you've promised this friend," said Hamid, "Still, I wish you'd remembered earlier, Jasmine."

"I know, and I'm very sorry," said Jasmine, backing away from the three men again.

"Are you going to be late?"

"I don't know," said Jasmine, mounting the first step. "It's a hard case-"

"What case is it, Jasmine?" asked Jafar, smiling a little. "After all, you have three important members of the police force right here, in your home. Couldn't your friend come here? Then you could pick our brains _and have this delicious-sounding dinner your father has so kindly prepared."_

"Excellent idea!" beamed Hamid, patting Jafar's arm. "Just give her a quick ring, Jasmine, and-"

"Oh, no," began Jasmine, "it's-"

"Theory," completed Iago. "It's all about the theory, and books, ain't it? Besides," he continued, taking Jafar's elbow and steering him towards the dining room, "she's gonna become a lawyer, not a police-lady. What does she need to listen to a bunch of old cops for?" He laughed at his joke, but to Jasmine's ears it sounded forced. Iago's eyes met hers, and he raised his bushy eyebrows at her.

"Yes," said Jasmine slowly. "That's right. Sorry," she added again, feeling that she'd never apologised so much in her life (not even over the lizard-in-the-hat prank).

"Well, it can't be helped, I suppose," said Hamid with a disappointed little shrug. "Don't be late though," he added.

"I won't," promised Jasmine. "I'll just go get my things." And she bolted upstairs before any of them could say anything to stop her. She grabbed her coat and bag, trying to think, but to no avail. Her thoughts were in such a whirl, conflicting emotions battering against each other, that all she was capable of thinking was _what on earth…? _She knew that she was panicking, and normally she hated panicking, but… She couldn't stay in this house with _that_ man. Not even for her father's sake.

Jasmine ran back down the stairs, shouted a hurried "see you later!", opened the door and was out in the snow again. She stood still for a moment, tiny snowflakes drifting around her and catching in her newly-bobbed hair. She touched it nervously, wishing she still had the long, waist-length hair she'd had when she'd been a child. On cold nights like this, it had been like a thick blanket that smothered out the rest of the world, and it had only been her, thick blankets of hair and stars and her mother, smiling and beautiful. The corner of Jasmine's eyes prickled and she sniffed loudly.

"She's dead," she whispered to herself. "She's dead and standing here thinking of her won't bring her back."

Shifting her shoulder bag, Jasmine tilted her chin out, marched out into the street and then towards the city that echoed with the traffic of now, trying desperately to leave the echoes of the past behind her.

* * *


	3. Scenes from an Arabian Restaurant

_Chapter Three:_

_Scenes from an Arabian Restaurant_

**Dedicated** to all the people who left reviews or e-mailed me about this story, but mostly to Laura, because she managed to infiltrate my home life with her campaign. :P 

"If I didn't know better, I'd say you were ignoring me."

"Hmm."

Sadie rolled her eyes. "Well, anyway, as I was saying," she said, "it was then that the pirates turned up and we had to fight them for the treasure – luckily, I had my whip with me and we beat them back…"

"Really?"

Sadie glared at her best friend. "And then Indiana Jones turned up and fought them all off with a lightsaber. " 

"What?" said Aladdin, looking up from the pavement in confusion. Sadie waved her hands in exasperation.

"Finally! I've been talking rubbish for the last five minutes and you haven't listened to a word I've said!"

"I'm sorry, Sadie," said Aladdin, digging his hands deeper into his threadbare pockets "I was just thinking about…"

"Cassim," sighed Sadie. She squeezed his arm lightly. "Don't worry about him," she said. "He's a grown man – he can deal with himself."

"And then he drags me into it," muttered Aladdin.

There was nothing that Sadie could think to say to that; she didn't think that agreeing with him and saying, _"yes, your father is a jerk,"_ would help matters.

"Here we are," she said brightly, unable to bear the silence any longer.

"Sadie," began Aladdin, "maybe I shouldn't-"

"Oh no, you don't!" She grabbed hold of his arm again and dragged him into the restaurant.

The Marketplace looked like a quiet, family-run place from the outside, with its candle lamps hanging from the sandy-coloured walls. The scent of spices and soft, powdery bread being baked filtered out into the street, and the couples sitting in the window seats smiled languidly at each other as they ate. Smiling a little bitterly at this, Sadie pushed open the door and nearly stumbled over backwards from the sheer barrage of noise that hit her.

_Oh, good. It must be a theme night_, thought Sadie, pushing Aladdin inside before he had a chance to protest. Instead of resisting Sadie, he looked surprised.

"What on earth is going on?" he asked the restaurant at large.

*

"Why is it so noisy?" cried Jasmine.

"What?"

"I said," shouted Jasmine, leaning closer to her friend, "_why is it so noisy?_"

"About ten past eight, I think," replied Lisa, sipping her tea. Jasmine sighed and gave up questioning her friend any more.

"Surely poetry doesn't make _this_ much noise," she grumbled to herself, tapping her spoon against her coffee cup.

"I'm sorry, Jas," sighed Lisa. "I think there's something else going here tonight…"

Marvelling at her friend's erratic listening skills, Jasmine nodded in agreement as she gazed around. She'd heard about the Marketplace – something of a cult place. A restaurant which kept alive the ideals of a Middle-Eastern bazaar. The moment Jasmine had stepped through the door, she'd been accosted by two men trying to sell her a fig and a necklace. Apparently, haggling the price of your meal was encouraged, although it was not compulsory, much to Jasmine's relief. She'd visited a bazaar once before in her life and loved it, but she wasn't in the mood for it tonight…

The scene at her father's house had been so strange. Jafar was an odd man, no mistake, but there was odd and there was… _odd._ She could not explain the emotions that had boiled up inside of her when he had touched her. The strangest thing was that she could not quite recall them; she knew that when he'd touched her she'd been terrified, feeling that she'd been buried alive… But now, sitting in a warm restaurant with her best friend, the feeling was far off, as if she'd read about it somewhere instead of actually experiencing it.

She was tempted to pretend that it had never happened, but a feeling of disquiet niggled at her. Not just about Jafar, but about Iago too. How had he known what she'd felt? Well, maybe not what she'd felt exactly, but he'd certainly known that something was affecting her, and seemed to know that the cause of it was Jafar. Perhaps she had given Jafar an odd look, or flinched when he'd touched her… But then her father would have noticed, and anyway, Iago had given her the excuse she'd needed to get out of there. Why had he done that? Iago had always behaved indifferently towards her. Polite – well, as polite as Iago could be – but he'd never enquired after her studies or anything else. In fact, the last time he'd spoken to her properly before tonight had been at her mother's wake…

Jasmine swallowed and nibbled at the biscuit that came with her drink.

"He's not here yet," said Lisa, staring anxiously around the room. "I'm sure he said tonight…"

"It's still early," said Jasmine, in what she hoped was a comforting voice. "He'll be here soon, I'm sure." Lisa bit her lip and carried on scanning the tables, tapping her spoon against her cup. Jasmine hadn't told Lisa what had happened before she'd left her house. She wasn't quite sure how she would explain, and it was all so strange anyway… _It's probably nothing,_ she thought. _Just tiredness and nerves, what with exams and Jafar coming over…_ She sighed, wishing that she could accept that answer. An instinct buried deep inside of Jasmine told her that there was more to it than tired nerves.

"There he is!" cried Lisa suddenly, dropping the teaspoon on the floor. She pointed at the door and Jasmine turned around just in time to see the object of Lisa's wistful looks walk in through the door. His eyes scanned the room briefly before alighting on Jasmine and Lisa's table. He smiled and waved; Jasmine waved back, although she had a feeling that Christian – was that his name? – was looking right though her at Lisa. There was a clatter and then a tinkle of broken china. 

"Oh no…"

Jasmine turned around to see Lisa, dripping with tea, staring miserably at the broken cup on the floor. "He makes me so nervous!" wailed Lisa, as Jasmine handed her a napkin. 

"Don't worry," she said consolingly, "I'm sure he didn't-"

"D'you need a hand there?" asked a voice behind her. Jasmine didn't need to turn around to know who it was; the look of mingled horror and pleasure on Lisa's face was enough to tell her that Christian was standing behind her.

"Um," said Lisa, her cheeks flushing. Christian walked over to her, bent down and picked up the cracked cup. 

"I'll go get you a new one," he said. He licked the tips of his fingers, tasting the amber liquid that had spilled from the cup to his hands. "Tea, was it?"

Lisa nodded mutely and Jasmine smiled, seeing the back of Christian's neck flush red as he turned away.

"Oh my god," moaned Lisa, burying her head in her hands. "That was so _embarrassing…"_

"What are you talking about?" said Jasmine, suppressing a grin. "He's buying you a drink! How is that bad?"

"I'm a mess!"

"Here," said Jasmine, rummaging in her bag for tissues and her compact mirror. She handed them to Lisa, who smiled gratefully. Jasmine watched her friend, who was dabbing excess tea from her clothes and still smiling faintly. She felt a rush of gratitude towards Lisa for no particular reason. Just sitting with her in a noisy restaurant made the Jafar Incident seem far away and unimportant. The longer she sat there, the easier it was to pretend that it wasn't very important, or could at least wait until the morning for further analysis.

"Where are you going?" asked Lisa in alarm as Jasmine stood up; she had just seen Christian meandering his way through the tables and chairs towards them.

"I'm just going to find the ladies… Good luck," she replied, winking and squeezing Lisa's shoulder.

"But-but," spluttered Lisa but Jasmine had already walked away. She gave Christian an encouraging sort of smile as she passed him, and smiled to herself as she heard Lisa squeak a nervous "hello" to him. 

*

No matter how long Aladdin had known her, no matter that they'd eaten together probably thousands of times, he was still amazed at how much Sadie could eat. Three empty plates sat in front of her and she was still wolfing down a final plate of kofta, wiping up the sauce with her bread. Aladdin grinned at her.

"How on earth do you do it?" he asked.

"Fast metabolism," she said thickly, placing a huge chunk of bread in her mouth that rendered her speechless for a few moments. Aladdin laughed.

"Lucky you."

Sadie finished swallowing. "Well, one of us has got to eat. Since you've barely touched your meal, I figured I'd eat enough for the both of us." She smiled gently as Aladdin looked down at his plate and played with his food for a little. "You need to stop worrying about him," she said softly. "Live your own life."

"I know," he said. "But it's hard to when he keeps appearing in my apartment." He looked up. "Thanks, Sad. I think I needed… to get out for a while."

"Well, what are friends for? Besides," she added, "this place makes the best apricot pudding."

As she hailed down a passing waitress who was talking on her cell phone very loudly, Aladdin forced himself to stop thinking about Cassim. It wasn't any of his business what his father got himself into. If Abis and Haroud were after him… Well, Cassim had handled worse than them. 

_I've much bigger fish to worry about than those two clowns._

"Would you mind taking our order, _please_?" asked Sadie, glaring at the waitress, who glared back.

"I'm on the _phone," she snapped, and then turned back to her phone. "If you liked him so much ask him out, I know I would, he's a real doll, a sweetheart, he'll take you out somewhere nice, and you can wear that new dress you bought – what? – Ooh, yes, wear that!"_

Sadie grunted with disgust. "They must be desperate for waitresses to hire _that_."

"- no, blue really isn't your colour, honey, wear pink-"

"Oh, for goodness sake," muttered Sadie. "I'll go to the kitchen myself. Want anything?"

Aladdin nodded. "Same as whatever you're having."

"You got it." She started to turn away when Aladdin caught her arm. He wanted to explain to her how much she meant to him… how much it meant to have someone who could bring him out of himself again.

"Thanks Sadie," he said finally. "You're a real friend." An odd look flickered across Sadie's face, but it quickly passed. She patted his arm and smiled.

"Any time, Al."

"Sadie! Hey, Sadie!"

Both Sadie and Aladdin peered around the crowded restaurant. Sadie laughed suddenly and waved at a table across the room. A man and a woman waved back, grinning.

"It's Evi and Alex," she explained to Aladdin. "Gosh, they must have just got back from Mexico – they were looking at all these old haciendas and things belonging to Evi's family, and am I boring you?" she asked anxiously. Aladdin laughed and shook his head.

"No… Go on, go say hello. I'll get dessert."

"Okay… Don't bother with _her_ though," she said, shooting the waitress, who was still chattering on her cell phone, a look ("Honestly, I've never heard of anything so ridiculous – of course he likes you!"). Aladdin nodded and watched Sadie wind her way through the tables. The man – Alex, Aladdin presumed – stood up and pulled up a chair for Sadie. The three of them were soon deep in conversation.

Aladdin managed to hail a passing waiter to order dessert. He played moodily with his spoon. _Snap out of it, Al! he scolded himself. _You can't change Cassim; you can't do anything about him – just stop worrying._ But he couldn't stop worrying; he was almost reluctant to admit it, but he cared about Cassim. And if you care about someone, you can't just switch off your mind from thinking about them… Especially when Cassim was being such an idiot – hadn't the death of his wife been enough to dissuade him?_

_Maybe I'll have to kick the bucket,_ thought Aladdin. _Maybe then he'll stop._

Dessert arrived and Sadie was still deep in discussion with Alex and Evi. Aladdin half wanted to go over and tell Sadie her food was waiting, or even to join them, but he had an idea that they had somewhat forgotten him. Besides, he wouldn't have had any idea what they were all talking about anyway.

He had just started on his watermelon, when he noticed the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen walk out the door. The watermelon slice fell to the floor.

*

The poetry night at The Marketplace was like nothing Jasmine had never seen before. Beat poets hit their drums, whilst they shouted out their words into the melee of noise.  Some of it, Jasmine thought, was quite good, or at least the parts that she could hear sounded good. She wished she could hear more, but at the same time she rather liked the cacophony that sounded around her.

Interestingly, Christian wasn't shouting out his poetry with the rest; he may well have been speaking it to Lisa, however, since they had barely stopped talking when Jasmine had returned from the ladies. She was happy for her friend (who smiled so widely her entire face was glowing) but at the same time couldn't help but feel a little lonely.

_I'll feel that one day,_ she thought. _Some day…_

"Lis?" she said, reluctant to break the two apart. "I think I should get going… My dad might be worried."

"Oh, is that the time?" exclaimed Lisa, looking at her watch. "I didn't realise it was so late…" She smiled at Christian, and Jasmine suppressed her own smile.

"Oh, you don't have to go yet," she said. "I'll get a cab. Seriously," she said in a lower voice, "_stay._ It's not that late." She winked and Lisa blushed, looking around at Christian, who was talking to another one of his friends and sneaking glances at Lisa. 

"I can't believe this is happening," whispered Lisa in an awed voice. Jasmine squeezed her arm.

"I can. Nice to meet you, Christian," she said, waving.

"Same here," said Christian.

"Are you sure you'll be okay getting home?" asked Lisa.

"Of course, I will. I'll stand right outside and hail a cab. I'll be fine." Jasmine waved goodbye and left the restaurant (but not before she was confronted by a man trying to sell her another necklace; she managed to wave him off quickly). The night air was cool compared to the sultry air of the restaurant, and Jasmine shivered a little, pulling her coat more tightly around her body. She stepped up to the curb and hailed a cab. It drove straight past her, spraying slush at her. She jumped backwards, colliding with something solid. Turning, she saw a tall, broad man standing behind her. He smirked

"What's a pretty girl like you doing in a place like this?" he leered.

"None of your concern," she said and tried to step past him; suddenly waiting in the restaurant seemed like a much better idea. The man caught her arm and gripped her tightly. She could smell the musty scent of too much beer on his jacket.

"What's in the bag?"

"Let go off me!" she snapped. She kicked him hard in a place that ladies shouldn't know about. He grunted and let go off her; his huge form was blocking the entrance to The Marketplace, and so Jasmine turned and ran down the street away from him. She had only run a few paces when she stumbled and fell; her heel had caught in a crack in the sidewalk. She started to scramble to her feet, but already she could smell beer.

"You're going to regret that," said the man in a low, dangerous voice, yanking her to her feet.

"Hey!" cried another voice, "leave her alone!"

"And why should I?" The man turned and Jasmine saw a younger, much skinnier man standing behind him. The younger man raised his eyebrows.

"Do you really want to be arrested? Let the lady go." His voice and stance belied a confidence that bordered on arrogance.

The man holding Jasmine's wrists tightly sneered. "Or what? You gonna fight me, pal? Go running to the cops?"

"I don't have to run anywhere, _pal._" The younger man pulled what looked like a walkie-talkie out of his pocket. "Requesting back up to The Marketplace. Suspect is harassing a young-"

Swearing, the man holding Jasmine threw her to the ground and charged away, racing down the nearest ally. Jasmine stared at the sidewalk for a moment, frozen with fear and shock. 

"Are you okay?" asked a voice above her.

"Yes," she began, "I'm fine-"And then she looked up and saw the most beautiful eyes she'd ever seen. For a moment, her breath caught in her throat and her entire body was frozen. 

"Are you sure?" he asked.

"… Yes," said Jasmine finally, forcing herself to look away, but unable to prevent herself from looking back almost straight away. The young man smiled at her, and she thought she'd never seen a perfect smile until now. "Lucky you had your radio on you," she choked out finally.

For some reason, he looked sheepish. "I was bluffing." He held out his radio to her. "Broken mobile," he said and he grinned again, helping her up. "It's a good thing he called my bluff; I'm not a cop at all." 

She couldn't think of anything to say to this, except: "I'm glad too."  

"I'm Aladdin," he said.

A smile found its way to Jasmine's lips.

"I'm Jasmine." 

Aladdin was still smiling at her, his eyes fixed on hers. Jasmine's heart was pounding so fast in her chest she almost felt faint. He held out his hand for her to shake, and she took a step forward. The heel of her shoe finally snapped and she stumbled. Aladdin caught her, and for a moment the two of them were frozen, locked in an awkward almost-embrace, staring at each other. Again, Jasmine forced herself to look away.

"I want to thank you," she said softly, "for stopping that man."

"Oh," said Aladdin, "forget it." He bent down and picked up her broken heel. "I'm sorry about this."

"It wasn't your fault."

There was a silence that wasn't exactly comfortable, but not exactly awkward either.

"Listen," said Aladdin finally, running a hand through his hair. "I don't want you to think I'm being forward or anything, but if you like… I live a few blocks away and you can call your parents, or a cab or something. I think I've got some glue that could repair your shoe." 

"Sounds fab-"

"Aladdin!" The door to The Marketplace flew open and a woman with slightly bushy brown hair peered out. She spied Aladdin and Jasmine. "There you are!" She ran towards them. "Where on earth did you get to?" she asked, poking Aladdin in the chest. 

"Oh, geez, Sadie, I'm sorry…"

"It's my fault," said Jasmine, pulling off her broken shoe; there was no point trying to walk on it. "I got in some trouble with… well, Aladdin came to my rescue." She smiled at him again.

"Well," said Sadie, "aren't we the chivalrous knight?" She turned to look at Jasmine. "Are you okay now?" Jasmine nodded, noticing with a slight blush that Aladdin was still staring at her. Sadie must have noticed this too and gave Aladdin a little shove.

"Listen, Alex and Evi are coming to my place in a bit – wanna come with us?" 

"No," said Aladdin slowly. "You guys will be talking shop and I'll have no idea what you're talking about." He smiled at Sadie and then turned back to Jasmine. "I want to make sure Jasmine's okay."

Sadie frowned slightly, but then shrugged. "Please yourself," she said. She nodded at Jasmine and then went back inside. Jasmine wasn't sure, but it seemed to her that Sadie had more stomped back inside than walked. All thoughts of Sadie drifted out of her mind as Aladdin smiled at her and said: "So… What do you want to do?"

"If I could use your phone that would be great… I think I need to call my dad."

Aladdin grinned. "It's this way," he said, leading the way. They walked in silence for a while and then Aladdin cleared his throat. "So, was this your first time at The Marketplace?"

Jasmine laughed a little. "Is it that obvious?"

"Well, you do kinda stand out…" Jasmine stopped walking and Aladdin coughed again, looking very embarrassed for a moment. "I mean, I saw Hasir hassling you for jewellery and you looked… surprised."

Jasmine nodded. "Well, I was surprised. I was expecting to eat dinner, not go shopping!" Aladdin laughed and they continued walking. 

"So…" said Jasmine, wondering how she could phrase this without sounding too obvious. After a moment, she gave up and said: "Is Sadie your girlfriend?"

"Sadie? No!" laughed Aladdin. "She's like a sister to me… We grew up together."

"Oh," said Jasmine, cringing at the blatant relief in her voice. 

"She works at the museum… She really lives for her work, you know? Like a female Indiana Jones..." He trailed off and they lapsed into silence.

It was strange… she'd only known this man five minutes and she already felt comfortable walking in silence with him. She didn't feel the need to fill the air with pointless banter. It was as if she'd known him before, as if they'd known each other for years.

"This is it," said Aladdin, stopping in front of a small apartment block. "Home, sweet home." 

A young woman rushed up the stairs in front of them, balancing a huge pile of science textbooks in her arms. Aladdin rushed up the steps and held the door open. The girl smiled gratefully.

"Thanks, Al," she said. "Watch out: Kleiss is on the warpath tonight."

"I know," said Aladdin, as the girl somehow propelled herself up the stairs, staggering under the weight of her books.

"Kleiss?" asked Jasmine, as she mounted the steps.

"Yeah, the landlord," said Aladdin, shaking his head. "Don't ask."

As they entered, Jasmine's nostrils were assaulted with the sharp, chlorine-fresh smell of bleach. She wrinkled her nose as they approached the stairs.

"Goodness," she exclaimed, "I can see my face in the banister!" She reached out to touch her reflection and Aladdin grabbed her arm.

"Kleiss is really particular about keeping everything clean," he said, nervously looking around for some reason. "I swear he has this sixth sense about dirt-"

"A-_lad-din!" The door to the ground floor flat opened and a slightly high-pitched nasal voice emerged from it. Aladdin tugged on Jasmine's hand and pulled her up the stairs. Jasmine felt barely aware of her feet running up the stairs; her entire being was suddenly concentrated on the way his hand felt in hers and the beat of his pulse against her palm. _

They didn't stop running until they'd reached the top floor, their hands still entwined together. Aladdin seemed reluctant to pull his hand away so he could get his key out of his pocket; when he did he suddenly froze.

"What is it?" she asked as Aladdin put his ear to the door, apparently listening. 

"I forgot my dad's visiting," he said. As Jasmine tried to work out why this would be a bad thing, Aladdin slowly pushed the key in the lock and opened the door. He peered in cautiously.

"Anyone home?" Inside, a cat meowed. "Abu," said Aladdin, opening the door a little wider; Jasmine could see a brown cat sitting patiently by the door. "Is Cassim home?" The cat meowed again and Aladdin let out a barely audible sigh. "Good." He flicked on the light switch by the door.

"I'm sorry the place is such a mess…" Jasmine didn't think it was so messy – yes, the shelves were cluttered with books and ornaments, and a ball of wool had been unravelled on the floor – presumably by Abu, thought Jasmine. 

"It's like you understand him, or something," said Jasmine, watching as Aladdin scooped Abu up with one hand and put him on his shoulder. 

"I've had him so long now," he said, "I think I _do_ understand him, as crazy as that sounds."

"I don't think it sounds crazy… I have a cat, too." They smiled at each other again. "I like your apartment," said Jasmine softly.

"Well, it's not much," said Aladdin.

"But it's got a great view!" said Jasmine, pointing out the window. "You can see the park."

"Yeah," said Aladdin, "Abu can see the squirrels running around and it drives him crazy, doesn't it, buddy?" He tickled the cat's chin and Jasmine smiled. She knew that now should be the time that she asked him where his phone was; her father would be expecting her home any minute now and she didn't want to worry him… Not to mention the fact that she was in a strange man's apartment, late in the evening. _It's time to go home,_ said her sensible side. _Ask him where the phone is._

"Do you live with your dad?" she asked.

"No," said Aladdin, his face darkening slightly. "I don't. His… business takes him out of town a lot. But if he needs something, he comes here for a visit." His bitter tone disturbed Jasmine, and she wished she _had_ asked about the phone; she didn't quite know what to say. Abu licked Aladdin's cheek.

"I'm sorry," said Jasmine eventually. Aladdin looked surprised.

"It's not your fault," he said. "Uh, the phone's by the window, if you want to use it…" He put Abu on the ground and pulled Jasmine's broken heel out of his pocket. "And I'll find some glue for this."

He hurried out of the room, and Jasmine walked over to the window and stared out. 

"What are you doing, Jasmine?" she murmured to herself. Abu hopped up on the window ledge and gave her a reproachful look. She scratched his head and he purred. "He's a nice guy, isn't he?" she said. "I can tell…" She reached for the phone and paused for a moment. It really wasn't worth calling her father, was it? He'd just worry and ask her where she was; she had an idea that he wouldn't be overly thrilled that she was in a near stranger's apartment. She glanced around and saw the number of a taxi firm pinned to a corkboard near the window. By the time Aladdin came back in with the glue, she'd ordered the taxi and was gazing around the room again.

"Taxi'll be here soon," she said.

"Great," he said. "I mean, uh, I imagine you want to go home. After, you know… everything." His awkwardness made him seem younger, and Jasmine smiled.

"Yeah," she said slowly, playing with the broken shoe in her hand. She stared at the broken heel in his hand and back to the shoe, remembering the feel of her attacker's hand on her arm.

"Are you okay?" asked Aladdin, stepping closer.

"Yeah," she said, taking a deep shaky breath. "I'm just a little shook up, that's all." 

Aladdin nodded seriously. "Do you want to go to the hospital or anything? They can give you things for shock-"

"No, no," said Jasmine, "it's nothing that serious." She blinked furiously and Aladdin took her arm and sat her down on the couch. He didn't say anything; somehow he didn't need to. The concern written on his face made Jasmine smile. "Really, I'm fine. I just need to get home and sleep." Aladdin still looked unconvinced. "Honestly. I'm fine," she repeated. "Thanks to you."

"Oh, well," said Aladdin, "it's all in a day's work really… Rescuing damsels in distress is my specialty." Jasmine laughed "Although," he added, "I wondered if you needed my help… You dealt with that guy pretty well on your own."

"I hope it makes him think twice about doing it again," growled Jasmine. Aladdin raised his eyebrows.

"Remind me not to cross you." Jasmine smiled. Aladdin grinned and Jasmine felt her heart beat faster. He ducked his head and coughed. "Now… to fix this thing." He took the shoe from her hand. The contact from his skin brushing hers made Jasmine flush.

"Aladdin." He looked up, his face very close to hers.

"Yeah?" he whispered, his breath tickling her skin. Jasmine shut her eyes and felt him shift on the couch, leaning closer to her… She could smell his scent rolling of his skin like smoke from a campfire…

Suddenly a horn blasted from outside. They jumped and Jasmine's eyes flew open. "I think your cab's here," said Aladdin. He laughed nervously and rubbed the back of his neck.

Jasmine nodded. "I should be going." She didn't move. Aladdin looked back at her, his smile lighting up his face again. The cab horn outside sounded again and they both jumped. He laughed again somewhat sheepishly.

"I'll walk you down," he said, standing. Jasmine didn't think she was imagining the look of faint disappointment on his face, and a small thrill ran down her spine. He offered his arm to her with a faint smile.

"Your carriage awaits, princess," he said, his tone mock pompous. He was trying to cover up, she realised, trying to brush over what had just happened. Her own heart was still pumping very hard and she felt a little sick. _Shock, she thought, _I'm in shock. _She hoped that if she ever saw Aladdin again, she'd still feel this delicious bubbling feeling in her stomach. She didn't want this to be the result of a frightening evening._

She took his proffered arm, and they left the apartment and walked down the stairs together, Jasmine limping on one shoe. Again, there was that silence, that should have felt awkward but it wasn't. They'd been so close to… Jasmine was shivering before they'd even got outside again. If Aladdin noticed, he didn't mention it.

"Here," he said, handing back her shoe and the tube of glue. "I'm sorry I didn't have time to repair it."

"That's okay," she said, taking them from him. She smiled at him, ignoring the annoyed looks the cab driver was throwing them.

"Goodnight Jasmine," said Aladdin softly.

"Goodnight Aladdin." Jasmine wanted to ask if she'd see him again, but she didn't. Somehow, she knew that she would – this couldn't have been a once-in-a-lifetime meeting. They'd meet again. _For one thing, she thought as she climbed into the cab, __I'll need to return his glue._

Aladdin shut the door behind her. "Sure you're okay?"

"_Yes," said Jasmine, a little exasperated and very touched. "I'm a big strong girl – I tie up my own shoes and everything." _

Aladdin laughed and stood back, waving as the cab drove off. Jasmine waved back, staring at him out the back window until the cab turned a corner and he was gone. She sat back in her seat, grateful that the driver didn't seem to be the talkative sort. She wanted to replay every moment she'd had with Aladdin over and over in her mind… The feeling of his breath against her cheek… The scent of him… The feeling of his warm, dry hand clutching hers. Jasmine smiled and hugged herself.

_It's all so magical…_


End file.
